Hunter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
badbutsadboy) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metalogs2023-01-21 09:33 pm
badbutsadboy) wrote in metalogs2023-01-21 09:33 pm
Recovery
Who: Hunter badbutsadboy and his CR
What: Hunter recovering
When: After he gets out of the hospital
Where: Jason's Safehouse
Content Warnings: N/A for now
[He's only in the hospital a few days. Vascular injuries are bad but the artery wasn't completely severed, the muscle was only nicked, and the rest was mostly a flesh wound. It was a low speed, small caliber handgun of some kind.]
[Hunter spends a lot of his recovery sleeping on the pull out couch where he can be checked on. At some point, he plans to ask Nico if Will can heal him (though he wouldn't be shocked if Nico brought him around soon on his own) but Flapjack chases away everyone so he can sleep first.]
[So he spends a lot of time just knocked the hell out on pain meds, until one day he feels like he's rested enough.]
[And then he's left at a crossroads. Huvrye wanted him to stay with someone and he knows he meant an adult. But...]
[But he's still feeling so unsure about it. Even with adults rushing him to a hospital, even with them staying by his side while injured.]
[So whenever he gets a visitor they find him sitting up on the couch, in sweats and fuzzy socks, his arm in its sling packed with ice packs. He sits, staring forward at the TV, expression troubled, lost in thought.]
[The TV is off.]
[Flapjack is squished next to his thigh on the couch and the fingers of his good hand gently pet his fathers.]
badbutsadboy and his CRWhat: Hunter recovering
When: After he gets out of the hospital
Where: Jason's Safehouse
Content Warnings: N/A for now
[He's only in the hospital a few days. Vascular injuries are bad but the artery wasn't completely severed, the muscle was only nicked, and the rest was mostly a flesh wound. It was a low speed, small caliber handgun of some kind.]
[Hunter spends a lot of his recovery sleeping on the pull out couch where he can be checked on. At some point, he plans to ask Nico if Will can heal him (though he wouldn't be shocked if Nico brought him around soon on his own) but Flapjack chases away everyone so he can sleep first.]
[So he spends a lot of time just knocked the hell out on pain meds, until one day he feels like he's rested enough.]
[And then he's left at a crossroads. Huvrye wanted him to stay with someone and he knows he meant an adult. But...]
[But he's still feeling so unsure about it. Even with adults rushing him to a hospital, even with them staying by his side while injured.]
[So whenever he gets a visitor they find him sitting up on the couch, in sweats and fuzzy socks, his arm in its sling packed with ice packs. He sits, staring forward at the TV, expression troubled, lost in thought.]
[The TV is off.]
[Flapjack is squished next to his thigh on the couch and the fingers of his good hand gently pet his fathers.]
no subject
Dylan leans against the couch's armrest just as Hunter settles back down to face him, and Dylan gets a good look at Hunter's adoring expression.
The sight makes him blush just a bit, especially with their faces so close in this position. The room is silent, save for a dryer running somewhere in the attic and the blood rushing in Dylan's ears. A warm smile stretches across his face.
He wants to kiss Hunter. That's not a new realization, but a pretty powerful one in this exact moment. But he can't do it now, not like this — not with Hunter compromised and doped up on pain meds. Hunter trusts him, and Dylan doesn't want to gamble with that trust.
Dylan shifts against the couch, leaning in to find a more comfortable position — one that brought his face just a little bit closer. ]
I'm glad. Is there anything I can get you while you're awake? Some food, or a book?
[ He glances back at the table with his algebra homework before turning his gaze back to Hunter. ]
Maybe I can regale you with the exciting process of finding points on a graph.
[ That last part is a little dry, but Dylan's still smiling. ]
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[He mostly just sort of wants to look at him a little bit. He chalks it up to the pain meds. Boy, they sure are making him feel weird, ha ha, it's not like he just wants to sit there staring at him or anything.]
[But his feelings are...strange.]
[Different?]
[Different.]
[Because he already liked him. Like, a lot. In a squirmy, strange, fluttery, warm kind of way. But now he can picture him with bloody hands, kneeling on the floor, trying to keep the life inside him.]
[And he can remember him draped over him, at his bedside, stealing some much-needed sleep - having refused to leave, still smeared with blood in a few places.]
[It's unpleasant. Those are unpleasant images.]
[But he was there when he needed someone most, and got him the help he desperately needed, and he's still here afterwards. Still wants to be around him. Is still trying to care for him. He knows if he asked for a glass of water or to order food from somewhere he would. And that he could probably even steal his fries without him getting mad.]
[And that if Kevlar and Wise were to burst through the door to try to finish the job, Dylan would become an impenetrable wall of goo and claws between him and them.]
[He's a little fuzzy on the meds so it takes some digging for the words he's looking for. But he finds them. And he'd say the exact same ones even if he wasn't fuzzy.]
You know, until I met my friends back home, any time I was ever hurt, no one else was ever there.
No one ever helped me. Either they'd caused it, hoped I'd die from it so they could be Belos' new favorite, or just didn't care.
I always had to pick myself up and get help for myself. And unless I was really close to dying, I had to patch myself up, too.
I don't...remember everything but I saw the blood on you. Under your nails. You didn't just call for help you were trying to hold me together.
[Trying his best to put pressure on and hold his blood in.]
tw for implied child abuse
Still, Dylan doesn't mind the staring. He wants to look at Hunter, too; He wants to drink in the curve of his nose, the angle of his jaw, the color of his eyes, that gap in his teeth... They're all little details that come together to make a perfect face.
And if Dylan mirrors that lovesick smile, well... he doesn't have any drugs he can blame it on.
When Hunter starts talking about his home world, about the abuse and neglect he suffered, the smile melts into concern. Dylan remembers his own, too — maybe not quite the way Hunter recalls it. Before Eddie, adults in his life would avert their gaze when he showed up to school and church with bruises.
When the conversation circles back around to Dylan, he tries to glide right over the memory of finding Hunter broken and bloody. He focuses again on Hunter's face, the look in his eyes when he talks about him. With that, Dylan's smile returns, and he blushes a bit. ]
I mean, I... I couldn't just stand by, you know? I'm sorry for the way things went down back in your old world. When there's people around that you're supposed to trust and depend on... it really fuckin' sucks when they fail you.
That's not gonna happen here, okay? You've got a ton of people who want to make sure you're safe.
[ He glances down at his hands, all traces of the blood once caked in there gone, and tries to lighten the mood a bit. ]
You know, I... tried to give blood. The doctors wouldn't let me, said I was too young. [ He chuckles softly. ] Maybe I should have told them I'm just trying to give back what I owe.
Re: tw for implied child abuse
[At mention of giving blood. But at least they didn't let him so maybe he doesn't know.]
[He thinks about that, about someone being willing to do something like that. To give away part of themselves to make him feel better.]
[Even if he'd done the same it's...it's a lot.]
You don't owe me anything.
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Yeah, well... you're stuck with me anyway, since we're friends.
[ Since he can't stop thinking about you.
He looks like he's about to say more, but there's a musical ding! from the closet that houses the washer/dryer. Dylan grins. ]
I'll be right back.
[ He stands up and darts toward the source of the sound, returning moments later with a thick, freshly-dried blanket. He frees up one hand and grabs a corner of the blanket Hunter's currently using, tugging it down to his feet. Then Dylan drapes the toasty-warm blanket over Hunter in its place.
Once that's done, Dylan sits back down at his spot next to the couch, grinning. ]
How's that?
no subject
[But even if he wasn't, the action might have still made his eyes well up.]
[Sure, the nurses had fussed over him appropriately, but it was their job. And Jason had fussed over him, but it was all practical. He'd needed help, he'd needed to be covered with blankets sometimes, needed his arm propped up. Eda had also been kind and thought to give him a new blanket, the orange monstrosity Dylan just pulled out of the dryer.]
[It's that he thought to warm it first. There's a care to that that's not just dealing with the practicalities of Hunter being cold. It's not attending to a basic need - something even Belos had sometimes done. It's about comfort.]
[It's tender.]
[A tear runs sideways from the corner of his eye down over his temple and into his hair.]
[It's too tender. It's too kind. Those are things that he soaks up like a cactus gone far too long without water, but even he has his limits. And the other people he's accepted kindness from knew everything about him. And even they weren't this affectionate. The friendships were still too new.]
[This feels wrong to him sometimes. Like he's been deceiving him somehow.]
You keep being so nice to me but there are things you don't know about me, you know.
no subject
When Hunter speaks, Dylan's gaze is back on him. He listens quietly, then ponders the words for a moment.
Of course there's stuff he doesn't know. It's only been a few months. But... he gets the feeling that's not what Hunter is talking about. ]
...Maybe. But there's some stuff I do know about you, too. I know you almost died trying to protect a stranger. I know how much you care about the people around you.
[ He leans in the closest he has so far, resting crossed arms on the mattress and resting his head on them.
Once settled, he gives a little smile. ]
And... I know every time you smile at me, I can feel fluttering in my stomach. It's feels... good. Exciting. And a little terrifying. But mostly good.
no subject
I've done things...
Things that aren't okay, even if I was lied to, even if I was just following orders.
[He'd jailed people in the Conformatorium. He'd burned books on wild magic in front of weeping witches, grieving over the lost knowledge and words of past generations of their families.]
[He'd threatened the people that later became his friends.]
[But worst of all was what he did to the Palismen.]
no subject
[ Dylan watches him, struggling to find the words. It doesn't matter, he wants to say, but clearly it does to Hunter. ]
Maybe you did do some awful stuff. I don't know. But I've met a lot of people who did some awful stuff, and some of them weren't even following orders.
And I've seen... a lot of them double down and keep doing it, even when they know it's wrong.
The Hunter that I...
[ His face turns pink as he trails off, then switches gears. ]
The Hunter I made friends with cares about the people around him. You almost died trying to protect a complete stranger, when you should have been focusing on survival.
Whatever awful stuff you did, you aren't gonna do it again. Maybe coming here was a chance for you to try again, without the lies or the orders.
no subject
[He's still here.]
[The part that's just making it hard is accepting the tenderness.]
That's one thing I really like about you.
That you try so hard to see the good in some people.
[So hard he can almost see it in himself too.]
[He reaches out a hand and catches Dylan's hand, holding it, his thumb rubbing against it.]
Sorry, I was getting so...
It's just you're being so good to me.
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It wasn't that hard to find. Not for you.
I've never really... taken care of anyone like this before. But I'm enjoying it. Even knowing you've done some awful stuff...
I just like it when you smile.
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[So he says things that maybe he would have been shy about saying.]
I like when you smile, too.
[He breathes in and out, his breathing slowing as he settles back down.]
And your floppy hair.
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I like your eyes. And your scar. And your ears.
[ He squeezes Hunter's hand again.
no subject
[It also feels like he's being told that someone likes his whole face. Not most of it in spite of part of it. And he's too tired to correct him. He doesn't want to think about why he has the scar, just wants to accept the compliment.]
[And he doesn't want to make Dylan think about him rejecting the compliment. About why.]
[He doesn't want to reject his compliment of his eyes either. He doesn't want to explain why they are the way they are.]
[So he accepts it. Melts into the warmth of the blanket and the compliments. He tries to let it all go. Reservations. Worries about who he used to be and what that means when it comes to what he deserves.]
[Maybe it's okay to just let himself be cared about.]
I like your eyes, too.
[He yawns, closes his eyes, and his voice gets thick with sleepiness. He's too sleepy and a little too drugged to realize what he's saying.]
And it was really nice dancing with you at the masquerade ball. I wish I'd asked you earlier. So we could've danced longer...
[Then he's out again. And no, he won't remember he said that very last bit.]
no subject
He's not sure he'll ever get tired of this.
That last line, however, cuts through Dylan's thoughts. He feels sudden clarity in his mind, like a shroud had suddenly been pulled away, as the effects of Loki's disguise enchantment is lifted.
The boy in red had been Hunter.
Who wants to dance with him again someday.
Dylan sighs, not even caring how dreamy he sounds in doing so. "Next time," he says softly, "I'll ask you. And we can dance all night."